


Oh Debora

by Uncharted_Constellations



Series: Baby Driver Fics [3]
Category: Baby Driver (2017)
Genre: F/M, magic!baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 21:04:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13221216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uncharted_Constellations/pseuds/Uncharted_Constellations
Summary: He should've listened when the music stopped





	Oh Debora

**Author's Note:**

> Hey lol i exist.
> 
> If you haven't read my other BD stories Carol and Ritchie are OC employees at the Pizza place Baby works at, Carol gets paid under the table by Doc to lie about Baby's whereabouts if questioned
> 
> Other than that TW: Blood mention

When Baby turned on his heist iPod and the screen didn’t light up, he thought it hadn’t charged. But when his green nano, and pink nano, and gold shuffle also failed to turn on, he thought the extension cord was out. 

When he plugged an iPod into every available plug at the safe house and they all still refused to turn on, Baby grew confused. 

“What, no power at the apartment?” Buddy joked as him and Darling walked in.

“…They won’t turn on…” Baby muttered. 

“None of em?” Buddy asked squatting down next to him. Darling grabbed the shoebox with the other iPods, holding down power buttons, staring at blank screens. “Did your apartment flood or something?” 

Baby shook his head before going to the next set of electrical outlets. 

“This is weird…” Darling muttered, flipping the nail-polish painted classic in her hand. “You think it’s cuz of-“ she wiggled her fingers. 

“What, like an omen or some shit?” Buddy asked and she shrugged. “Think the job is jinxed?”

“Think we should invest in some bullet-proof vests just in case,” she mumbled under her breath, putting the iPod back in the box. Bats stormed out of the elevator with Doc behind him, carrying a large box of guns. 

“Still not working?” Doc muttered under the weight as he put down the box, and Baby shook his head. 

“W’a’s goin on?” Bats asked, arms folded. 

“None of his music is working,” Darling mumbled, sitting down at her seat. Bats grabbed the abandoned box, rapid clicking all of the power buttons. 

“Nah this some horror movie shit,” Bats said, turning back towards the elevator. Buddy grabbed him by the collar and dragged him back to his seat.

“Just sit down,” Buddy grumbled.

“Fine, but when we all get dragged down the hallway by our fuckin’ ankles, I blame you,” he hmphed, kicking his legs up. 

Baby begrudgingly left his post, sitting down at the end of the table, headphones scrunched in his hand. Doc’s words were mumbled over the ringing, just barely scraping into his subconscious as his eyes scanned the room over and over, looking for any glow of light from the floor. 

He left disappointed with a box of non-functional iPods and a headache.

* * *

The record player was malfunctioning. No matter how much him and Joe tried, the needle kept skipping around the records, either repeating sections over and over again, or skipping around so willy-nilly it practically remixed the songs themselves.

The man at Criminal Records couldn’t figure it out either.

“There’s really nothing wrong with it… I don’t get why it’s doing that,” he muttered, screwing back on the base. “How old is it?”

“More than a decade,” Baby mumbled, grabbing an ‘on sale’ Elvis record. He didn’t think he had another copy of that one, or if he did he probably lost it. 

The other man frowned, turning the player on it’s side like it might fix itself. He plugged it in and grabbed the Elvis disk out of Baby’s hands, placing the needle on the edge. The needle quickly moved towards the center of the record, skipping past everything else. 

_“devil in disguise~devil in disguise~devil in disguise-“_ The employee quickly turned it off, pulling up the pin and sliding off the record. 

When he played it on the player in the store, the record played fine. 

“You might just need to get a new one… If you leave your number, I’ll call when we get one on sale,” he said, ringing up the record. 

“Thanks,” Baby mumbled, sliding a twenty on the counter, writing Debbie’s number on a sticky note. 

“You come in every week anyway,” he laughed, handing Baby the change and stacking the record on top of the player. Baby carefully picked up the record player before walking towards the door, carefully kicking it open with the tip of his shoe. 

The brisk winter air hit his face as he stepped outside, earning a few glares as he started back towards the apartment. 

He nearly got hit by the pigeon that smacked into the window of the record shop.

* * *

“That’s weird,” Carol agreed, ringing up the register, sliding the receipt and pizza over the counter. Baby was attempting to get some of the grease off the oven door, wincing as he touched the hot glass. 

“It’s the apocalypse,” Ritchie agreed. 

“That was supposed to happen in 2012 idiot,” Carol grumbled, picking up the ringing phone. “Goodfella’s how can I help you-”

“No just a you-apocalypse,” Ritchie mumbled, gesturing to Baby, “Do anything new over the last few days?” 

Baby shook his head, tossing the rag in the sink. The oven could look like crap for all he cared. 

“What are you doing this week then?” 

“Work, home, find a new record player, make dinner for Deb,” Baby mumbled in quick succession, leaving out the “help rob a bank” part. It was technically included in work. 

Carol put the phone down, sending out the order to the back. “Anybody new at your second job?”

“Nope, same old, same old,” Baby responded as a box was shoved into his arms, receipt with the address stapled on top. “Same old,” he repeated walking out the back door of the restaurant towards the car.

* * *

Baby flipped through Joe’s old recipe book as the man watched the news. Without the record player or iPods working, the woman discussing politics was the only thing filling the apartment. He vaguely wondered if the neighbors were going to file a lack-of-noise complaint with the police. 

He sprinkled the basil into the sauce and stirred, taking another glance at the recipe. He wasn’t good at cooking, but he was good at following directions. It was hard to burn something with exact instructions how to not burn it. 

Apparently, Deb decided to arrive early, or if not, they had a visitor, which never happened. The former was right as he opened the door, and Debora’s red stained lips opened up to a smile. 

“Sorry, I’m a bit early, aren’t I?” She laughed. 

“Just a little-“

 _“You look like an angel~walk like an angel~talk like an angel-“_ The record crooned suddenly, and Baby raced to the back of the room to lift the needle. 

“It’s been… on the fritz,” he explained, heading back to stir the sauce in the kitchen. 

“That’s alright,” she laughed, patting Joe on the shoulder and standing behind him. “The weather was supposed to get bad later, but I guess the weatherman changed his mind.” 

“Always do,” Baby mumbled, grabbing the strainer of slightly cooled spaghetti, and scooping it onto the two plates. By the time the sauce was added and the bread was out of the oven, Joe had fallen asleep with a maroon blanket draped across him, and Deb had already opened the red wine. 

Baby carried over the plates as Deb filled his glass, and he sat down as she took a sip, lipstick staining the glass. 

“Didn’t stop by the diner at all this week,” she mumbled into her glass as Baby took a bite of his bread. 

“Been working all week… think I’ve had pizza for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for four days now,” he joked and she laughed. 

“Actually been thinking about leaving the diner for a while now-“

“Really?” Baby asked. 

“Yeah I dunno, just need a little change in my life,” she sighed, and they both jumped up as something metal hit the floor. “Sorry, dropped my knife,” she laughed and bent down under the table. Baby looked over at her seat and- the knife and fork were both still on the side of her plate, both untouched. 

_“But I got wise~ you’re the devil in disguise-“_ The record started back up and stopped skipping as Debora rose up, with a pointed bloody knife in her hand. 

Baby blearily realized that Joe wasn’t sleeping as she arched the knife down towards his chest.

* * *

Baby was late. 

Baby was never late. 

He was the last to come in, but he surely wasn’t ever late. 

“God damnit, I warned y’all,” Bats grumbled heading to the elevator. 

“Where the fuck you going?” Buddy asked as Doc came out of his office. 

“We know where he lives and where he works, he’s gotta be at one of them,” Bats answered, pressing the button. “Y’all wanna come with?” 

Everyone turned heads before heading over to the elevator, Doc, for once, included. 

“Do the apartment first,” Buddy mumbled. 

“Why?” Darling asked, folding her arms. 

“Just a feeling,” He mumbled, watching the metal doors close.

* * *

Doc knocked at Baby’s apartment door, three stooges standing behind him anxiously. A door opened, but not the one he was standing at. 

“Oh good, I was just about to call someone,” An elderly Mexican woman crooned, moving her hands around. 

“Why?” Darling asked, sliding her hair behind her ears.

“That apartment’s been loud as long as I’ve lived here,” she muttered.

“So?”

“It’s silent,” The old woman mentioned, walking towards the elevator at the end of the hall. Darling turned towards the others as they waited for the old woman to disappear. As the elevator doors shut, Bats raised his leg, kicking the door right on the side of the handle, breaking the lock and sending the door in. 

The metallic stench of blood filled their nostrils, along with the smell of old tomatoes. 

“Shit,” Doc muttered, pushing past Bats into the apartment. The old man looked lifeless in his chair, the mark maroon blanket stained with a large patch of crusted blood. His eyes were closed like he was sleeping, although they all knew it wasn’t the case. 

They didn’t see Baby on the floor at first. The chair was tipped over onto the ground, like he’d simply lost his balance. But his entire shirt was drenched in red and brown, and the large puddle underneath the chair was slowly dripping down under the floorboards. 

The dinner on the table had attracted flies, but the only thing that Doc noticed was the missing wine glass on the other side. 

“Oh Babes,” Darling mumbled, looking around the apartment. 

“Ayo Doc-“ Bats muttered from over by the TV. 

“Don’t touch anything, we don’t want to leave prints,” Doc mumbled, pulling off his glasses and hanging them over Baby’s nose, hoping that the glass would fog up. 

“No not that-“ the glasses stayed clear as a blue sky, and Doc sighed before putting them back on. 

“What?”

“I think old dude’s still kickin,” Bats mumbled, and they all quickly hopped over to the chair where the old man sat. 

“He’s covered in blood idiot-“ Buddy mumbled as Doc took off his glasses again, hanging them under the man’s nose. 

“Why don’t you just check the pulse?” Darling whispered as they waited. 

“They can pull prints off a body,” Buddy whispered back as suddenly the glass fogged up. 

“Darling, think you can do an impression of that neighbor?” Doc asked quickly.

“Yeah?” 

“Break into her apartment and call an ambulance,” Doc instructed, backing away from the man as Darling ran out of the apartment. “We need to get out before we’re seen by more people.”

“Shouldn’t we… do something?” Buddy asked, wincing at the sound of more crunching wood as Darling kicked her way into the neighbor’s residence. 

“If he was going to die he would’ve done it already,” Doc grumbled, taking one last look at his young associate before walking out of the apartment. The two other men quickly followed, waiting outside the neighbor’s place while Darling talked on the phone. 

“Who the fuck woulda done something like that?”

“Diner Debbie,” Doc answered easily.

“What? Awe shucks in the little black dress?” Buddy asked.

“Other wine glass was missing,” he said as Darling finished her call, “Don’t forget to wipe off your prints!” He shouted into the apartment. She came out a moment later, using the sleeve of her jacket to shut the door behind her. 

“Now what,” Darling asked, turning back towards the red stained apartment. 

“Now we go to Bo’s.”

* * *

“She finished up yesterday, handed in her notice two weeks ago,” The manager grumbled. 

“Any number to call her at?” Darling asked, hands pressed harshly into the pockets of her jacket. 

“Not that I know,” he replied, disappearing into the back of the diner. Darling grumbled quietly to herself before pushing open the doors and leaving the restaurant. 

“She handed in her two weeks’ notice, finished up yesterday,” Darling answered walking outside. The other’s groaned, leaning against the car. 

Darling turned as the door behind her opened. A concerned waitress stood behind her. 

“Is this about Debbie?”

“This is about Debbie’s boyfriend,” Darling answered. “He’s dead.”

“Oh,” the waitress sighed quietly. “Do you think she-“

“Yeah,” Darling answered. 

“Do you know where he used to work?” The waitress asked suddenly, turning back to face the restaurant.

“Yeah, why?” Buddy asked, walking forward, linking arms with Darling.

“She might be there…”

“What makes you think that?” Darling asked. 

“Just an old memory,” the woman sighed, eyes watering, “I have to go back to work.” 

And with that they got back in the car, with a new destination in mind.

* * *

Carol grated her teeth as she listened to Debbie flirting with the customer, voice perfectly sweet like a Disney princess. It was sickening.

The phone started to ring and she picked it up without thinking, pressing it lazily to her ear, “Goodfella’s pizza, what’ll ya have.” 

_“Is Debbie there?”_

“You know, sometimes I just wanna grab a sketchbook and hike off into the middle of nowhere and just sketch, ya know,” Debbie laughed, and the long-haired man at the table smiled. 

“Yeah,” Carol stood straight at the counter, looking outside, seeing Doc standing out by his car. “How’d you know? Where’s Baby?”

“I feel that,” he replied, tucking the hair behind his ear. 

_“Could you get her to come outside?”_

“So what’ll you have?”

“Why?”

“Baby?”

_“Little miss sunshine’s got a little blood on her shoes,” Doc answered hanging up._

“Oh sorry, this isn’t my badge, I’ve only just started here,” Debbie laughed as Carol put the phone back down in the receiver. 

“Hey Debbie!” Carol shouted.

“Yeah?” Deb quickly turned around, the man at the booth staring at her legs as she did. 

“Can you help me with something outside for just a minute?” She asked, trying to keep annoyance out of her tone as she grabbed a large stack of empty pizza boxes.

“Sure!” She replied cheerfully, following Carol out the back door. “Deliveries?” 

“Just need help loading them into this guy’s car,” She lied, heading out front. 

“Oh say, don’t I know you,” Deb asked, putting her hands on her hips, and Doc kept his face blank. 

“Not that I recall,” He answered. 

“Are you sure, ‘cause I coulda sworn-“ 

Carol was glad her face was covered by pizza boxes as Debbie suddenly dropped silently to the ground, face down. In her place was another man with slicked back hair, a smoking, silenced gun in his hand. Noone on the street or in the restaurant reacted at all as another woman popped the trunk. 

Carol used the boxes in her arms to cover them from view as the body was heftily tossed in the trunk. 

“Did she kill-“

“Yeah,” Doc answered quietly. 

“Is… uh-“

“Joe was still breathing when we left… Hopefully he’s in surgery,” He said, leaning against the car. 

“Good… good,” she mumbled as the others got in the car. 

“Do you want a job?” He asked suddenly.

“I can’t drive-“

“No, I know,” he answered. Carol stared back into the restaurant. 

“Gotta go chuck the tape,” She mumbled, heading back to the restaurant. 

“If you change your mind,” Doc said, and Carol stopped, “Put blue flowers.”

“Put blue flowers where?” She asked, sighing suddenly, “Oh, yeah okay…” 

She pushed open the front doors of the restaurant and walked towards the back, grabbing an old tape that she stashed in the drawer and switching it out with the one currently in the camera, tucking the other tape in her purse. 

She checked her face for blood in the reflection of the oven before walking over to the man who Debbie had been waiting on. He was sketching the now dead woman in his sketchbook, and she picked up the notepad that she had left on his table. 

“Sorry about that, she had to go, family emergency,” she excused, watching the man’s face fall, “How can I help you today?”

* * *

Doc sat in the white hospital room, listening to the luckily persisting beeping echoing in the room. The older man had apparently come around earlier for just a minute, but since nobody had been around he had just gone back to sleep. 

Samm sat next to him, trying to play pokemon on his DS, but his eyes kept lingering on the body in the bed. 

“So that’s his dad?” 

“Closest thing he had,” Doc answered quietly, disinterestedly flipping through a magazine.

“He’s old… how come he made it?”

“He got hit in the shoulder instead of the chest. He passed out, but the blood loss wasn’t as bad,” Doc replied, flipping the magazine closed with a satisfying whap. 

“Is he alone now?”

“He had another foster kid a while ago… she’s coming up to take care of him,” Doc mumbled. 

“Then why are we here?” 

“He needs to know.” 

And they both fell back into comfortable silence, with Doc flipping aimlessly through pages and Samm pressing buttons with soft clicks. 

During a particularly A-mashing section of the game, Joe suddenly awoke, immediately staring at Doc, signing a question. 

Doc didn’t need to know sign to know what he’d ask. 

“B- Miles didn’t make it,” He said, watching the man read his lips, before slumping dejectedly. “We got her though, she won’t do that to anyone else,” he paused to let the man catch up, “Shandra is coming up to stay with you.” Joe nodded, folding his arms over himself into the blanket. He gave Doc a definitive sign as he reached up to press the call button, and let the nurses know that he had awoken before leading Samm out of the room.

Samm was on his phone as they walked to the car, jumping in the passenger’s seat despite the law. 

“He said thank you.”

“What?” Doc replied.

“I looked up the,” Samm shook his hand, “He said thank you.”

“Oh…” Doc sighed, gripping the steering wheel as he started the car. 

“He seemed nice,” He mumbled, pulling his DS back out of his pocket. 

“Mhm,” Doc agreed turning out of the parking lot. “Wanna stop anywhere before we go back to your house?”

“No,” Samm mumbled, diving back into his game. 

Doc turned up the radio as he drove, letting the music fill the car. 

Someone honked their car in between beats, and the blinker was just a second off. 

He supposed some things just wouldn’t be the same.

* * *

The grave itself was plain, but it quickly became adorned by toy cars once the police ran the man’s prints, tying him to hundreds of heists that had gone on in the area. There was one set of flowers, just a simply wrapped bouquet of sunflowers.

Someone had placed an old record on the grave as well, with a small business card for a record store tied on with a red ribbon. 

There wasn’t any malice directed towards the grave despite the man under it. Sure he was a criminal, but the woman who killed him was a serial killer. She had apparently run after this one, but there were several more deaths on her belt, mostly men who had previously worked where she ended up. It was easy for the police to pick up the trail. 

They figured out a few unsolved and finally got a name and a face. 

They never did find her, but she never killed again. 

The grave keeper thought it was odd when someone left a bouquet of blue flowers nearly a year later, but who was he to judge those who visited the dead.


End file.
